“Not so fast!” Mitch’s voice barked from the trailer behind. The leader’s head jerked sharply to look back past the cab. Keene moved his head to view the nearside mirror and saw three barrels protruding from gaps in the forward end of the shelter. “This is an Army Special Forces fire team. We are in here, behind cover. You are out there, in our sights. Your call.”
The leader glanced uncertainly at the other, wearing a purple scarf across his face, who was standing just behind. The others farther back shuffled awkwardly or stood in bewilderment. One of them started to back away cautiously. “Hold it right there!” Mitch’s voice ordered. The man froze.
Then the leader waved at them to lower their guns, and his face split into a grin of broken teeth with gaps. “Well, sa-ay. It’s okay, we don’t want no trouble, man. We were, like, just bein’ careful, you know. Doesn’t do to take chances, the way things are. You never know who you might run into. But you’re still goin’ the wrong way, man. We’ve been where you’re headin’, and there ain’t nothin’ to go there for. It’d make more sense to just turn around and get us all out o’ here.”
“That’s fine. So you can lay the guns down,” Mitch answered. The leader hesitated. In the cab, Keene raised his automatic above the window level where it was visible, leaving no doubt who would be the first to go. The leader nodded to his men and put his own gun on the ground. One by one they hesitantly followed suit. He turned back toward the truck and spread his arms wide, again switching on a broad grin to show he was the most reasonable fellow in the world.
Mitch appeared from the back, accompanied by Cavan, cradling his submachine gun in the crook of an arm. Legermount and Birden got out too, but remained in covering positions by the rear corners of the trailer. Keene climbed down to join them, still holding the automatic. Other rifles were still being aimed from inside the shelter. “Okay, now we’ve established a talking relationship, what’s it all about?” Mitch asked. “Did you people just decide to go out for a walk or something? Look around. Don’t you know this is going to be seabed in a matter of hours?”
“Yeah, we know all about that, all right.” The leader looked back along the highway. “But whatever your plans are, you people ain’t gonna get no farther in any case. There’s a bridge down just back there. Nothin’ the other way for us to turn around for—’cept wait for the tide to come in like you said.” He waved toward the side of the highway. “Then we saw that boat there and figured we’d come across to check it out—think maybe it’d see us through till we found somethin’ better, like maybe another truck. Then you showed up.”
Keene looked the way the leader was pointing and noticed for the first time the hulk lying on its side against a gravel bank about a hundred feet off the highway. He turned with Mitch and Cavan to peer past the men still cordoning the road. The wind was gusting, but not to the levels that it had reached earlier. Flies attacked in vicious, swirling flurries. Ahead, he could make out, now, the canted surface and bared pilings of what he had taken to be a barricade across the roadway. More figures were standing on the near side of the break.
“Where are you making for?” Mitch asked.
“Corpus Christi, then thirty-two to San Antonio. What other way is there?” The leader shrugged as if it were a pointless question. “Where the hell did you think you are going?”
“It’s a long story.” Mitch squinted into the distance. “So how bad is this bridge?”
“Not even good for walkin’, man. Washed out. We just about got ourselves over, an’ that’s it. Like I said, you ain’t takin’ that truck nowhere that way.”
“Let’s have a look.” Mitch waved to Buff, who slipped the truck into gear and eased it forward. The leader directed a torrent of Spanish at the others back on the road. They parted sullenly. The leader and his second led Mitch and Cavan through them, the truck following ten yards behind.